


Voice in the Dark

by wicked3659



Series: Voice in the dark [1]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Rare Pairings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-13
Updated: 2014-07-13
Packaged: 2018-02-08 17:03:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1949211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wicked3659/pseuds/wicked3659
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for livejournal's weekly rare pairing challenge.<br/>Prompt: Don't give up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Voice in the Dark

Sunstreaker marched through the corridors, his expression murderous. Mechs steered clear of him as he snarled at anyone who got too close. His normally pristine plating was scuffed and covered in scorch marks and dents. The battle had been a fierce one. One of the fiercest yet since landing on this mudball of a planet. His fists clenched as he approached his destination.

He didn't want to be here, he wanted to be in the medbay where his brother was currently being treated for a severe null ray burst to the chest. However, orders were orders. Optimus wanted the stats of the battle from tactical and their resident tactician hadn't responded to comms. since Prime had called for a retreat. Sunstreaker had been one of the few that hadn't been severely injured and so here he was.

He tensed as he palmed the door release, stepping aside quickly as Trailbreaker and Smokescreen quickly exited, barely sparing him a glance. Sunstreaker frowned, what was their hurry? He slipped inside just as the door slid shut and stopped dead.

It took his processor a few long moments to figure out what he was looking at.

Prowl was at the central console, his back to Sunstreaker, his doorwings rising and falling on his back, twitching occasionally as he muttered angrily to himself. He keyed in a few more scenarios and data from the battle and swore suddenly with venom, his fist slamming on the console.

Sunstreaker just stared in silence, unmoving as Prowl lost his temper and sent a pile of datapads clattering to the floor as he shoved them off the console with a snarl of angry frustration. He watched with a growing scowl as the black and white sank down into his seat, doorwings drooping, lower than Sunstreaker had ever seen them, his hands curling about his helm.

Hearing a whispered, 'my fault,' Sunstreaker's anger faded, replaced by surprise and confusion. How was any of this Prowl's fault? He was the mech that kept most of them alive, gave them a fighting chance.  Sunstreaker felt uneasy seeing the normally confident, unflappable Praxian like this.  Despair and self blame weren't things he associated with Prowl and didn't want to start.

Standing awkwardly in the darkened room, Sunstreaker didn't know what to do. If he left, or spoke Prowl would know he was there, and he obviously didn't want to be seen like this, but leaving and not saying anything would create an even more awkward situation. There was nothing for it. Clearing his intakes, he stepped forward hesitantly.

Prowl stood quickly, doorwings shooting up on his back as he stared at Sunstreaker almost accusingly.

Neither mech said anything for a few kliks.

"So um Prime wants the stats on the battle and wants me to tell you to report to him asap," Sunstreaker spoke, his voice sounding loud in the overly quiet room.

"Right," Prowl replied. He turned, pausing momentarily at the mess he'd created, before bending down and sifting through the pile, gathering them up into his arms.

Moving closer, Sunstreaker bent down and helped to pick up the strewn datapads. He handed them to Prowl, optics meeting his as their fingers lightly brushed. He frowned at him. "Wasn't your fault, you know?"

Prowl stood quickly and Sunstreaker followed suit. Avoiding his gaze, Prowl held out a datapad. "This is the data Prime wants, please inform him I will see him as soon as I finish my report."

Scowling slightly at the brush off, Sunstreaker accepted the datapad. "You know," he started, not sure what was compelling him to try and help Prowl. "Some battles just go bad, can't control everything,  not even you," he finished, optics studying Prowl closely for a reaction.

"How long were you stood there?" Prowl asked pointedly, glancing at him.

Sunstreaker gave him a shrug. "Long enough."

Prowl's faceplates screwed up slightly into an uncharacteristic scowl as he stared at the monitors. "I appreciate your candour,  Sunstreaker but please... don't," Prowl's posture wilted subtly as he spoke. "You have no idea."

"Not pretending to," Sunstreaker retorted, resisting the urge to make a smart aft remark and just leave him to it. The minute tremble in those black and white doorwings and the tremour in Prowl's field, that he was trying to rein in, spoke volumes and so he persisted. "But I know pain and despair when I see it," Sunstreaker continued even as Prowl threw him a sharp, warning glance. "Been fighting long enough to see when a mech is one fight short of giving up entirely."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Prowl bit out stiffly, turning away from Sunstreaker.

"The slag you don't," the golden mech snapped, moving to intercept the black and white, getting in his path. "Look, I know I'm not your favourite mech, and I don't even know if you have a mech you can go to when things get fragged up, but don't insult me by pretending nothing is wrong."

"What do you want?" Prowl snapped back, not even bothering to remove his arm that Sunstreaker had curled his hand about loosely, to stop him from evading him. "You want me to admit that I messed up? Fine. I messed up. Those injured, your brother, are in the medbay because I miscalculated, because I keep miscalculating their tactics ever since we arrived on this planet!" He vented harshly, leaning wearily against the console when Sunstreaker released his arm.

Frowning deeply, Sunstreaker looked at the monitor before gazing back at Prowl. "If you ask me... which you won't, but if you did,  I'd say that wasn't a bad thing."

Prowl shot him an incredulous glance. "I had no idea your suicidal tendencies ran so deep, Sunstreaker," he replied dryly, regaining his composure somewhat. "I am certain however, that the rest of the army don't share your sentiments."

Huffing air through his vents, the frontliner shook his helm. Was Prowl being deliberately obtuse? "You don't understand."

"Evidently."

"I meant, not even you can predict the screaming brand of crazy that is Megatron's tactics," he casually gestured to Prowl. "And I don't think I'd be all that comfortable with the likes of your genius processor being on the same wavelength as that mega-glitch."

“I’m hardly a genius,” scoffed Prowl quickly.

“Oh yeah?” Sunstreaker folded his arms and perched his hips against the console edge as he gazed at Prowl shrewdly. “What was the probability that Sideswipe would deviate from usual tactics and go straight for Starscream by himself?”

“Forty seven point three percent,” Prowl replied almost immediately.

“And tell me again how many mechs were injured?”

Prowl frowned at him. “Twelve, three critical requiring surgery, four serious but not life threatening, five minor, superficial, unless you count Optimus who will refuse treatment until the last soldier is repaired.”

Sunstreaker quirked an optic ridge at the black and white.

“That doesn’t prove anything! I’m good with numbers, not a genius. This battle… the numbers don’t add up, they’re not making sense and it _keeps_ happening,” Prowl clenched his fists, leaning heavily against the console, his frustration palpable. “And I… I… don’t know what to do…” he trailed off with defeat evident in his posture and his normally commanding tone.

“War is more than just numbers, Prowl,” Sunstreaker spoke quietly. “The first sign of a genius,” he added with a wry smile, “is admitting that you can’t do everything on your own, that you need help.”

Prowl shot Sunstreaker a suspicious glance. “Why are you trying to help me?”

Sunstreaker shrugged. “Genius or not, if you start to give up, what hope do the rest of us have? Not to put too much pressure on you here, Prowl but, down on the field when things are going to the pits and all you can see is death and energon and hate, there’s that voice. Clear, strong, confident. It tells us where to go, it’s the eyes in the back of our heads, it’s the order that saves our friend, gives us a way out, a way back from whatever dark place we were stuck in. We don’t always like what it says and yeah sometimes it’s creepily detached when telling us which direction to point and shoot without question but...” Sunstreaker exhaled softly, his gaze no longer on Prowl, his optics distant as they looked through the monitors, tortured, weary from many a fight, many a memory of a lost comrade. “When that voice stops and we’re alone in the middle of that battle field, that feeling we get… deep in our spark...” he looked back at Prowl, optics searching, almost desperate. “Hopelessness. There’s no greater killer in a battle than the loss of hope. That voice, guiding us, keeping our afts alive, that’s our hope. That’s all we have to hold onto when all we see is death.”

“...Sunstreaker…”

The golden mech held up his hand and gave Prowl a shake of his helm as he began to protest. “I’m just saying, you might not think you do much up here, that nobody sees or knows what you do when you’re hooked into the comms relaying orders, seeing _everything_ we can’t see… but we do… and believe it or not and trust me, for me this is hard to admit…we need you. I need that voice. Your voice. I don’t want to get stuck out there without a way back. I don’t want to die like that, so we keep fighting, refuse to give up because _you_ ,” he placed his finger in the middle of Prowl’s chest as he stared at him intently. “you always refuse to give up on us.”

Prowl was stunned to silence by the golden warrior’s words. He didn’t know what to say even if he’d had the words.  

Sunstreaker ducked his helm, scowling slightly, feeling like he’d said too much and he backed away. He held up the datapad and inclined his helm in thanks, heading to the door. He paused before he left and glanced back at Prowl who was watching him, his expression unreadable. “I couldn’t do what you do. Miscalculations or not; takes courage to walk that road. Courage I don’t have, that I don’t think anyone else has, to take on that kind of responsibility. I know we give you a hard time but out of all the tacticians I’ve had to work with... you’re the strongest I’ve ever known,” he gave Prowl a thin smile. “So much for no pressure,” he chuckled ruefully. “Just don’t give up. If there’s anything I can do, to help, _anything_ , come find me.”

“Why would you do this. Why would you offer this to me? We’re not… not even friends...” Prowl managed to call out meekly as the golden mech turned back towards the door.

Sunstreaker glanced over his shoulder and gave a shrug. “Doesn’t have to be all on you, Prowl. Even genius tacticians need a voice in the dark.”

****

 


End file.
